Fall From Grace
by temptalia
Summary: Somebody’s going to take a dive. Who’s manipulating whom? Theresa-centric.
1. Prologue

Title: Fall From Grace

Author: Christine, 

Rating: Hard R

Pairings: Alistair/Theresa, Theresa/Fox

Summary: Somebody's going to take a dive. Who's manipulating whom?

Notes: First off, I don't own the characters. NBC does. Second, let's forget this whole embryo business. Theresa is not pregnant. I just don't have the strength to work that in, forgive me! Don't let the Alistair/Theresa pairing scare you off – isn't the concept interesting in itself?

Prologue 

"Why, Fox?" Theresa screamed as tears trickled down her cheeks. "Why did you play me for a damn fool!"

"Theresa—"

"All this time... it's been Whitney. _All_ this time. You were never serious about giving us a chance. _Never_! God, did you imagine it was me when we kissed? Made love?"

"Of course not!"

She dismissed him as she continued her tirade, "I can't believe I defended you! You—you are nothing but a Crane, through and through. You find something you want, and then you do everything you can to get it—damn the consequences and the people you have to hurt in the process!"

"Please, let me explain!" Fox yelled.

"No, you make _sick_!" Theresa cried and ran from the man she thought would be her second chance at a happy ending.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Excuse me, but you can't go in there," a blonde secretary warned.

"Watch me," the dark-haired beauty ground out.

"Who the hell is barging into my office?" Alistair's voice boomed in anger.

"Sir, I tried to stop her!" the secretary whined.

"Theresa," he acknowledged. "Leave us," he commanded.

After the secretary had left and the door had been slid closed, Alistair folded his hands, eagerly waiting for Theresa to speak.

"You're going to give me back my old job."

He laughed mockingly. "And just why would I do something like that, Theresa?"

"Because Crane Industries needs somebody with a brain. Julian's growing soft. Fox is entranced with a jazz singer. He can't see past his zipper to ever do you justice. And my son just isn't old enough to take on the responsibilities yet."

"My dear, that's all irrelevant. You were never married to Julian. You have no connection to the Crane family."

"That's where you're wrong, Alistair. I have Little Ethan. I'm the _mother_ of a Crane."

"But where is your son, now?" he asked cruelly. "Oh, yes, that's right—with Ethan and Gwen."

"You still can't get over how Ivy duped you, can you? You still treat Ethan as if he were a Crane. He's not. Whether or not they have my son in their custody doesn't change the fact that he's _my_ biological son. You really want him raised by those two? Ethan, who is too moral and upstanding to ever make it in business, and Gwen who has no self-respect—ergo, no ego, no arrogance, no confidence in her own abilities—these are not the candidates fit to raise the Crane heir."

"And I am to suppose that you are much better?"

"I have the determination, drive, and gall. I don't fight as dirty as you Alistair, but at least I can play the game if I have to."

"You certainly have gall storming into my private office."

"If you'd get over yourself, you'd realize that I'm being quite logical. Fox is never going to be ready to run the Crane empire. Looks like he's following in his father's footsteps... So, if not Fox, then my son becomes your next available heir. Clearly, he's not of age yet, but if you have me until he's ready, you'll have a real successor at your disposal."

Although Alistair's facial expression was masked, the gears inside his devious mind were beginning to move and click. He was beginning to like her idea. And so he did something he never thought he'd do.

"You can have your job back," he paused and noticed her eyes were lit up, "on one condition."

"What?" she asked, hesitantly.

"Never make me regret my decision," he replied coldly.

* * *

Theresa sat at her desk, remembering the various reactions she encountered by her friends, family, and foes over her position at Crane Industries.

Her family couldn't understand her desire to work for 'that evil man,' as her mother had put it. Luis nearly shot his head off when he had found out that she would be working with the man that continued to ruin his happiness with Sheridan.

Theresa understood their reactions, though. She didn't expect them to act any differently—she knew that they wouldn't be able to comprehend her actions.

Gwen had accused her of trying to snare Ethan again. Which was far from the truth, but Theresa never attempted to allay Gwen's fears. Ethan seemed confused, but remained silent. Not that he would have said anything of consequence, she assured herself.

Fox's reaction was the least expected, she realized. He had been calm and simply wished her all the happiness in the world.

She suspected that he had given up trying to renew their friendship, and that alone made her glad—not having to see and deal with Fox was making it easier for her to move on.

Because without a doubt, every time he pleaded with her to forgive him for lying to her, she'd look into those sad brown eyes and feel the urge to run into his strong arms.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"We need this acquisition," Theresa implored.

Alistair stifled a yawn.

"Don't you think it's time we revolutionized the look of Crane?"

"And you think stepping into the fashion arena is going to do it for us?"

"It's going to get us a whole lot of publicity—good publicity—and we need some right about now. Lately, all the news coming from the papers and tabloids have tarnished the Crane image. We've aired too much of our dirty laundry. It's time we fold some of it up."

Alistair smiled thoughtfully. Despite the fact that he was a strong believer in the power of blood ties, this young woman was certainly proving herself worthy of being part of the Crane family.

"But that's not the real reason."

"Of course not," he murmured.

"What do rich, successful business men always have on their arm?"

"A beautiful model," he answered as he began to understand her reasons. "Where there are models, there are more connections we can make. And more pockets we can pull from."

"Exactly," she replied.

"Yes! Yes, this is perfect."

"How much are you going to give me for it?"

"The connections we're going to make will be priceless. Whatever it takes."

"All right," she nodded. "Nothing more than forty million—they're hardly worth much more now. The agency needs the Crane name and backing to be worth over that."

"Get it done. And soon. I'd like to sample some of these lovely models myself," he grinned lasciviously.

She rolled her eyes; she was used to his innuendo and his sexual urges after working alongside him for the past six months.

"At least I didn't have to appeal to your baser instincts to get your approval this time," she teased.

* * *

"Alistair!" Theresa gasped as he entered her corner office and immediately stood up from her leather chair.

He rarely came to her—she always was running to him with her ideas, contracts, anything—so it was always a surprise when he graced her with his presence.

"I see I have caught you off guard, my dear."

"I'm a little surprised. You tend to have people go to you. So, what brings you to visit me?"

"I have a gift for you."

She eyed him carefully. "A gift?"

He offered her a thin red box with a simple red ribbon wrapped around it.

Cautiously, she pulled the tie apart and lifted the cover off the box. Inside, there was a glittering scarlet dress which she pulled out and held up so she could see the length.

"It's gorgeous," she said breathlessly. "Thank you, but—"

He laughed. "Yes, I suppose there is a 'but.' There is an event I need you to attend with me."

"Oh, really?"

"Wipe that worried look off your face, Theresa. Your 'virtue' won't be harmed."

She rewarded him with a little laugh for his joke—Alistair Crane only made jokes in the most intimate and trusted company; that she realized.

"What is the event?"

"An engagement party."

She smiled—she loved weddings. "Who got engaged? Current connections or possible new ones? And tell me it's for love and not money."

"It's a surprise," he grinned mischievously.

* * *

"Alistair, won't you _please_ tell me more about this party?" Theresa whined and looked up at him with pleading doe eyes.

He merely laughed and readjusted himself against the leather limousine seat. "Patience, my dear."

"You know I don't like surprises. I think I've had to handle enough of those," she replied dryly.

"Is that bitterness I hear in your voice?" he grinned. "I thought you'd gotten better at hiding your emotions."

"Usually. But it's not as if you can't see through the façade; after all, you're the one who taught me how to mask my feelings."

* * *

"They can't be too important, can they?" Theresa murmured as she stepped out of the stretched black car. "This is only the Seascape. We're still in Harmony—"

"Oh, but they are," he smiled. "Come on, my dear," he urged as he held out his hand.

She took it gracefully and allowed him to pull her near his side. They walked towards the restaurant's entrance with poise and elegance as several bulbs flashed as Theresa smiled slightly—it wasn't a frown, so there wasn't total indifference upon her face, but there was mystery and intrigue underneath the subtle play of her lips—while Alistair looked as stoic and unmoved as ever.

"You were made for the public eye," he praised her as the doorman ushered them into the crowded party.

She winked at him before focusing on the people and the music that surrounded them.

"Oh, my god," she cried as her face fell and immediately turned her back on the familiar faces she loathed to see together.

Alistair wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her from sliding to the floor in a boneless heap. "Smile, my dear, the happy couple is approaching us."

There were hot, flaming daggers shooting from her eyes as she sent him a murderous look which spoke louder than any words could have.

"Grandfather, how nice of you to come," Fox said sarcastically. "I'm sure you've met my fiancé, Whitney."

"Is that anyway to greet your grandfather? I did pay for this fiasco, didn't I?"

Fox rolled his eyes. He had jumped on his grandfather's offer to foot the engagement party's bill, but he couldn't help but wonder what other plans he had in store for him. Rarely did Alistair do anything nice without having an ulterior motive.


End file.
